


All Your Curves and Your Edges

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Author Jensen Ackles, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Gaslighting, M/M, Murder, Sociopath Jensen Ackles, Top Jensen Ackles, descriptions of dead bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: Jensen is a professional. He’s been writing about murder for nearly two decades now, crafting all sorts of stories where good guys prevail, but with every book, he’s learned more and more about how the bad guys cover their tracks.
Relationships: Jared Padalecki/Matt Cohen (past), Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 35
Kudos: 147
Collections: 2019 Supernatural & CWRPF Holiday Exchange





	All Your Curves and Your Edges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WetSammyWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/gifts).



> A pinch-hit for for 2019 [SPN_J2_XMAS](https://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/). I tried running with your gaslighting prompt, even read up on the movie the phrase is based on, and went with a sort of AU in that vein. Happy Belated Holidays! 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you [quickreaver](https://quickreaver.livejournal.com/) for brainstorming and betaing this - I randomly dropped like 5-6 ideas in her DMs in the middle of the night then added “I feel like you’re one of the folks who enjoys twisted so I come to you”. Thank you for all your help and the quick-turnaround beta!
> 
> Title from John Legend’s “All of Me.” Because even if he's demented, Jensen's a demented romantic.

It’s a Santoku Mad Shark knife. The V-shaped blade with 16 divots slices faster and cleaner, with food sliding right off the blade. Eight inches of German high carbon stainless steel glints in the bathroom lights. Its military-grade high-polymer ergonomic handle rests easy in Jensen’s palm. 

Jensen slides his thumb through the blood, clearing the way for the shark logo with its teeth bared angry and wide. **MAD SHARK** is bold in black etching above it. **Entry Lux Series** below. 

He rolls his eyes. She probably just googled _sharp kitchen knives_ and thought these were cute. That they’d be enough to slice through tomatoes without fault or maybe even the jack-o-lantern propped up on the kitchen counter, next to where Jensen found the knife block. 

The room is stark white tile from floor to ceiling, sterile and sparkling any other day of the week. Before Jessica started her bath. Before steam fogged up the mirror. Before she disrobed and turned up Enya or whatever new age bullshit's on her playlist. 

Before Jensen sliced through her honey-brown throat and laid her to rest in the water. 

The tub blooms red as her skin goes pale and Jensen exhales with a smile turning his lips.

* * *

The knife is bagged and tucked in the pouch of his hooded sweatshirt until he can get back downstairs. The door is locked with the duplicate key he had made two weeks ago. There’s only a short pause as he looks at the brass **304** on the door, eyes glazing over the longer he stares. Then he pockets the keys and takes a flight of stairs down to his home.

The apartment is quiet, but he can still hear the strings and singing through the ceiling. He’ll have to turn it off when he returns the knife. Should’ve done it when he was there, but he’ll admit he rather enjoyed the ethereal soundtrack drowning out the white static that usually floods his senses just after ....

Blood and bleach runs down his drain as the blade becomes as close to factory clean as possible. Leaning over the kitchen sink, Jensen’s hands turn a deep pink thanks to hydrogen peroxide and harsh, repeated scrubbing. 

He brushes over the knuckles again, and again, and again, and while he knows they’re clean, he sees blood all the same. _Her_ blood. From _her_ neck. From _her_ knife. 

Jensen picks up the knife again and runs his thumb along the thin blade as he remembers how easily it slid right across her throat. So smooth and quick, she didn’t bleed a drop until he laid her in the water. 

She’ll lay in that wet grave for a long while before someone finds her. Jensen made sure of that when he got into her phone and fired off a number of farewell messages. Face recognition doesn’t care if you’re alive, so long as your eyes are open.

 _Last min trip to the Caribbean – ya mon! C u next yr ;-)_

It had pained him to type it out like that, but he’d spent the last week combing her email to pick up on her schedule and, most importantly, her typing habits.

He hadn’t planned to act tonight. Hadn’t really planned on acting at all. He’d just been curious, is all, but then he saw the email thread with her spin class girlfriends. The one that contained a whole lot of talk about Jensen’s husband along with pictures picked up off of a supposedly private Facebook profile. 

Speaking of, the front door swings open and Jensen sets the Santoku in the drying rack. He double checks that the water droplets are crystal clear, not a drop of red in sight, and they are, so he smiles happily for the evening to begin.

“Babe! I’m home!” comes from the front of the apartment before Jensen dries his hands on a kitchen towel then neatly folds it back over the rack above the sink. 

_Babe_ , Jensen thinks. _**I’m** his babe. Not **her.**_

“How’s the book going today?”

He turns just as Jared enters the kitchen, bright hazel eyes focused right on Jensen, wide smile and dimples proving he’s happy to be here. “It’s … going,” Jensen replies cheekily. 

The third installment in _The Montrose Murders_ series has stalled out since Jessica moved in upstairs, but Jensen thinks his recent research has been going well. 

Jared slides in close with his arms around Jensen’s waist and drops a soft kiss on Jensen’s cheek. He jokes, “You kill anyone lately?” 

Jensen goes warm all over and tugs Jared into a close embrace. “I may have had some ideas.”

“Hmm. What’s this?”

He looks to his left and Jared’s long fingers dance over the black ergonomic handle, then his thumb taps at the Mad Shark logo. “It’s a knife, Jared,” he says plainly.

Jared gives him a look and rolls his eyes. “I know that, Jensen. But it’s a new.”

Jensen’s heart kicks up a little, but his face remains controlled as he turns to Jared with a simple smile. “We’ve had that knife forever.”

“I think I’d remember a knife like this. With this logo.”

“Well then your memory’s shot,” Jensen eases out. 

Jared’s eyes narrow when he looks at Jensen. “You sure? Our knife set is all silver.”

Nodding smoothly, Jensen convinces him, “I used it just last night to chop onions.”

“We didn’t have onions.”

Smooth as butter, Jensen rebuffs all of Jared’s protests. “Sure, we did.”

Jared shifts back and huffs. “We had meatloaf.”

Jared easily reels him right back and smiles sweetly. “And I chopped and grilled onions to go in it.” 

Meatloaf, yes, they had meatloaf for dinner. Onions, no.

They stare at one another, eyes seeking and brains thinking, until Jared breaks with a small defeated sigh and steps out of the embrace. He gets a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water from the fridge, taking his time to drink until his eyes wander the counter and stop on a brown bottle. “What’s that out for?”

Jensen glances back and pauses through a quick shock to his chest when he spots the hydrogen peroxide. After a one-two second count, Jensen breathes steadily and shrugs. “I cut myself cleaning the knife.”

“Is it bad?” Jared puts the glass down and moves back in to grab Jensen’s hands for inspection. “That’s gotta be a pretty sharp knife.”

He moves his fingers around as he fakes his own inspection and adds a snort with minor frustration. “It hurt like a bitch at the time. But it’s so small, I can’t even find it now.” 

Jared curls his fingers around Jensen’s and brings their hands up to kiss the back of Jensen’s. “My poor baby.”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmurs as they share a heated look, “Your poor baby.”

“Think my poor baby is up for a longer examination?” He takes a few steps back and tugs Jensen with him. “Make sure you don’t have any cuts anywhere else?”

Jensen smirks and lifts an eyebrow in interest. “You’re gonna have to check all over.” 

Jared continues back-walking to the bedroom, fingers lacing with Jensen’s. He even lowers his eyes to take in all of Jensen. “Oh, I’m gonna take my time.”

Jensen’s nerves heat up at the implication and his heart beats warm and steady as they slide right past any concern for the knife. As they carry on with their evening. Just the two of them … and Enya upstairs.

* * *

The middle of the night, Jensen’s back in Jessica’s apartment and Jared’s back in their apartment fully passed out. The knife is back, too, tucked into its slot in the knife block.

He left his shoes at the door this time, walking with thin socks through the apartment. There’s no need to wake Jared with heavy steps or the well-known crack of hardwood floors. The floor’s cold as he walks to the bathroom, just like her skin when he drags a latex-gloved finger down her limp face. 

The music must have looped through the playlist. A couple times, maybe, in the hours since he was last here. Jensen listens to another run of lofty strings and a haunting voice. He knows this one; it’s that song from Jared’s favorite movie.

Jessica and Jared had bonded over it weeks ago while Jensen stared just over her shoulder and daydreamed of dragging a bag over her head, the last breaths she’d take trapped inside, warm and moist, gagging through the final noises to escape her mouth. 

Then he wouldn’t have to watch her be all mood-eyed with Jared or bite her lip all cheeky and flirting. Wouldn’t have to hear her voice lilt all high when she’d insisted they should have a Lord of the Rings marathon, laughing when Jared said Jensen gets bored too easily. 

Maybe he’d shut her up with a white Target bag, red bullseye right over her face.

He never looked at her again without that bullseye in sight.

He’s still looking at her, glaring at that slack jaw and pupil-blown eyes as he unplugs the Amazon Echo on her bathroom sink. After a count to 10, he plugs it back in and turns down the volume so Alexa’s welcome message is subdued, like everything else in this apartment. 

Back downstairs, Jensen creeps through his own apartment, a lot like he’d crept through Jessica’s about 12 hours go. His office remains dark as the computer boots up and he sits at his desk lit only by the glow of the monitor. 

He opens his most recent document, _Montrose 3_ , and starts typing. 

_He watches from afar, but the binoculars help. Todd pretends it’s the flock of sparrows flying back and forth between trees that he watches, and no one notices him._

_The lenses magnify the shine of her long brown hair, brushing over her shoulder as she moves her bag from one side to the other. Rosy cheeks say more about her than the chill in the air: soft, sweet, innocent … free. Like a dog unleashed in the fields, she’s escaped to the City to start over, and he’s watched her try to make friends with anyone who crosses her path. She succeeds on most occasions. On the others, she’s found herself under the gaze of those who could hurt her. Just like she tripped her way into his sights …_

_Todd’s heart beats fast, his breathing even faster, as he imagines those few seconds between blooming life and the pale after. He can’t wait to count the seconds when she’s in his hands._

* * *

It’s been three days since Jessica took that bath. For three days, Jensen has visited and takes notes on the changes of her skin, the messy decomposition below water in contrast to the slow crawl of the head and shoulders above.

He dips one fingertip in the water to test the temp, circles a little to watch the swirl of blood. It’s cooler than his own body, that’s for sure, and he wonders how it’ll regulate her own body temp. Maybe she won’t grow as cold and stiff under these conditions.

That’s another note in his book.

He spends a little more time crouched beside Jessica than he’d care to admit, but his notebook is filling up with plenty of details for his novel. Everything in this scene is more vibrant than anything he could Google. 

After dinner, he and Jared do laundry like they do every Thursday. They stand side by side in front of the machines in their utility room, sorting clothes into piles, often sharing little tidbits about their day. Maybe even just humming along to random songs and hip-checking the other to elicit playful smiles before passing the rest of the evening in the bedroom.

But this Thursday is all different. This Thursday is _after_ Jessica.

Jared shakes out each piece of clothing from the laundry basket, stopping when he’s got Jensen’s grey hoodie in his hands. 

“What’s this?” Jared asks, stretching the piece out on the washing machine. 

“Looks like a sweatshirt,” Jensen says thoughtfully.

Jared scratches at a spot, once, twice, three times before bringing it right up to his face. “Is that blood?”

“It’s not blood.” 

The reply comes quicker than any other words, while Jensen’s mind swarms with the slow-motion replay of one lone blood drop sailing through the air and landing on his sweatshirt with a soft _plop_. He imagines an extreme close-up on the tiny red dot just out of his periphery as he’d finished slicing Jessica’s throat and put her to rest in the bath. He relives every moment following where he took extreme care and patience to escape from the scene, clean up in their kitchen, and even return the knife and shut off the music in 304 without leaving a trace of himself behind.

And now, she’s left one of herself …

“Look at how it smears, though.” Jared nearly complains as he now rubs a spit-damp finger over the spot and sure enough, the red dot becomes a fuzzy brown mess the more he plays with it. 

“Look at how you’re ruining my sweatshirt, though,” Jensen replies in the same voice. He yanks it out of Jared’s hands and wastes only two seconds examining the stain for himself. Yep, it’s blood and he knows exactly whose it is. 

“There’re a few more,” Jared points out as he grabs the sleeve, pointing out three more dots. 

“It’s probably just ink.” A moment later, Jensen’s brain supplies the rest of that lie. “My pen exploded the other day.”

Jared takes his time to watch Jensen’s face, which to Jensen’s credit, remains impeccably stoic and confident. “A red pen?”

“I was editing a few pages. Printed them out. It’s easier for me to read that way.”

“You always edit in the doc.”

“Not always. You don’t see me always doing it in the doc,” Jensen justifies with an easy shrug. “I do a lot of writing while you’re at work. How would you know?” He pulls the sweatshirt away from Jared, tosses it into the washer with the other light-colored shirts they’d separated, and immediately gets the load started. 

Water rushes into the tank along with a rush of blood through Jensen’s ears as he realizes Jared is still closely watching him. Assessing, maybe judging. It’s not a new look and this isn’t the first time Jensen’s had to segue past Jared’s attention. It’s become rather easy to do, to convince Jared he’s wrong when he notices something odd like a new knife or blood on Jensen’s clothes, but Jensen has to hand it to his husband: he’s pretty damn observant. 

And just downright pretty, which makes Jensen smile slyly and turn into Jared so they’re chest to chest. Jensen drops a few slow kisses up Jared’s neck, across his jaw, and to his ear, where he can whisper. “You up for messing around right here?” 

Jared is also easily distracted, because when Jensen kisses his way across Jared’s cheeks and settles his hand over Jared’s groin, there’s a low growl coming from Jared’s chest and the subject has changed. 

Without another word, Jensen slips his hand into Jared’s sweats and underwear, pulls his dick out, and starts a steady rhythm with a tight fist and his mouth working over the thick vein in Jared’s neck. Jensen pumps quickly, twisting just the way his husband likes, and swallows up every heated whimper Jared lets loose until Jared’s buckling along with the rocking of the washing machine’s spin cycle.

* * *

In the morning, Jensen’s doing all he can to ignore the sun slanting through the drapes. He’s been fighting it for nearly half an hour now, but he can’t pretend he’s sleeping any longer when Jared makes a withered noise.

Opening one eye, Jensen sees Jared’s sitting up against the headboard, fiddling with his phone, and frowning at the screen. Seconds later, he drops it in his lap with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asks as he scoots a little closer to Jared. “Lose another round of Toy Blast?”

“We had plans with Jessica,” he starts and Jensen flashes white hot inside. “Well, _I_ made plans for dinner.”

Jensen remains completely still, mostly because he’s shocked at Jared mentioning her. The whole scene in 304 was to keep her out of his husband’s view. He clears his throat through the morning roughness, but otherwise portrays aloof calmness. “You did?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice to finally do something.” He shrugs a little, then sighs and slides back down to lay beside Jensen. “We see her all the time, but never make plans. I thought it would make her feel welcome since she’s new in town.”

“Lots of people are new in town,” Jensen points out, though he can hear a thread of annoyance in his voice. 

Jared doesn’t seem to care, because he barrels right past that point. “I’ve been texting her the last few days and she’s not answering. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her all week. We haven’t even heard anything upstairs.”

Jensen switches tactics and coos at Jared. “It’s really so sweet that you’re worried about a perfect stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger, Jensen.”

“She’s not your friend either.” Jensen stops immediately and realigns himself, thinks through a nicer tone and more thoughtful response to Jared’s worries. “She’s been here almost two months and has been making her own friends.”

Jared frowns. “What if she’s met the wrong friend.”

He sets his palm to Jared’s chest, knowing there’s so much in this big soul, almost too much thoughtfulness for anyone he meets. It had always been such a special part of Jared’s character, but sometimes Jensen yearns to be the only one in Jared’s orbit. “You’re really worried about her, huh?”

Ducking his head, Jared makes a face, embarrassed and concerned at once. “She’s a nice girl.”

Jensen runs his fingers along Jared’s face and neck, soft, careful, thoughtful. Just like Jared. Then he slides the edge of his nail along Jared’s throat, the same line he put in Jessica’s. He would never, but … reliving the motion makes him warm all over. “You really think so?”

Jared finally breaks the moment with an eye roll and long sigh, hefting himself out of bed. “Not like that, you idiot.”

“Idiot?” Jensen turns to his back and watches Jared gather up clean underwear and an undershirt on his way to the shower. “But I’m your idiot, you know that?”

“I’m well aware,” Jared jokes from the bathroom. 

The water starts up, a steady stream echoing off the shower tiles and Jensen remembers the flood of water filling Jessica’s tub, how long she let it run down the drain before finding the right temperature and setting the plug in place. It was just the right side of hot, like she wanted a tinge of pain when she entered the water. Like she’d planned to be in there for a long while, water cooling down the more time passed, and Jensen surely knows that water is room temperature by now. High 60s or so. 

“Hey, my idiot,” breaks Jensen from his thoughts and Jared is coming to lean over him, hands pressing into the mattress. “ _I was asking_ if maybe you could check upstairs.”

Jensen blinks at him, because his next thought was to do just that. See how her body’s changing, the water, too. It’s been nearly 24 hours since he last was up there. With a widening grin, he says, “Yes, I can.”

There’s a flash of shock on Jared’s face. “Really?”

“Just for you, babe.”

Jared drops down for a kiss, making a thoughtful noise as he moves back. “Thank you. If nothing else, it’ll make me feel better. In case something did happen to her, at least we can say we checked.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Jensen agrees, his cheeks tightening as he fights to keep the smile in place. “Just in case.”

* * *

There’s an odd little click when Jensen turns the key in the lock, a louder shuffle when he pushes the door open, and a bit of a _thump_ when he shuts it.

The apartment feels larger today, quieter, more empty and hollow as every footstep echoes. Especially when he goes to Jessica’s bedroom for her phone on the bedside table where he’d left it Monday, when he last pretended to be her. That had been to buy time. This is to settle his husband’s own mind.

He’ll just fire off a text or two to Jared, play Jessica again, but then he discovers the phone is dead, having sat alone for days. Just like her.

Mumbling a curse, Jensen pockets it to charge downstairs. He can’t chance searching for a cord in here and leaving behind touch DNA on things he can’t feasibly contend he’d touched if asked. When he’ll play the guileless neighbor who’d been in this unit once or twice to borrow eggs or sugar, even used the bathroom when they chatted a bit. He can cover all that, easy peasy.

He’s been so controlled and smart, wearing latex gloves every time he’s here, making sure he’s keeping himself clean of any attachment to this apartment. And now he’s back to check on Jessica – for himself and for Jared. Opposing intentions, but they've got the same idea in mind. 

Her body has mottled to a mildewy grey-green, while her face is a subtler shade of light beige, like a musty mushroom in a field. Under the sun, it would have just as much light as she does with these bright lights, and probably smells about the same. 

But he’s strong enough to welcome the mustiness. In fact, he takes deeper breaths to break down every component in the air. Musty wetness, something foul like food forgotten at the back of the fridge, and a bitterness that makes his nose twitch. 

It’s gross, surely, yet he still smiles. It’s research, after all. 

Back in his office, her phone charges next to his computer. He takes a moment to text Jared from his own phone, smirking that there’s no lie when he tells his husband that he _checked upstairs and all is quiet in 304._

_Ok thx babe_ is the reply before a succession of Jared’s thoughts.

_At least nothing looked funny  
Still worried tho  
I’ll text her again  
Am I being crazy to worry???_

Jensen’s smirk falls and he’s nearly glaring at his phone, at his husband’s messages. 

Why is Jared so worried about her? She’d lived above them for two months and they ran into each other in the lobby regularly, but Jensen’s fists always curled up into weapons like they do now when he tosses his phone down and stares at the ceiling. 

There’s a whirlwind of anger as he replays every time they’d seen Jessica and how she’d share a simple hello with Jensen then joyfully ramble on with Jared. How she’d hang onto Jared’s every word and smile, along with his arm when she grabbed onto it to laugh at his dumb jokes about the weather or the always-late bus that stopped at the corner. 

The last straw was her suggesting they do dinner at the new Chinese place by the Soul Cycle she hit every morning at 6am. She’d even joked that she’d work extra hard in her next few sessions to make room for their dinner. 

Jared had said she always looked great and shouldn’t worry about working out.

She didn’t take Jared to dinner. Instead, Jensen took her out of the equation.

Suddenly, he has a taste for crab rangoon, even as he swears the rotting fish smell of her body is stuck in his nose. 

Her phone buzzes on his desk and Jensen sees Jared’s name on the display. A text message. 

He has to read it. Has to know what Jared’s saying, where his worries lie and how Jensen can steer them away and drive Jared right back to them, their marriage, this bond they vowed to hold. 

With another pair of gloves, he jogs up the stairs and through her apartment so he can flash the phone at her face to unlock it. Then he sits on the edge of the tub to read Jared’s message because for all that he can take his time to write, to clean, and even kill, there is no waiting in this manic moment. 

_Hey again. I know I’m a pest but please let me know you’re ok. Haven’t seen you around in a while._  
Probably silly to worry, but I’m a worrier :-P and you promised chinese ...  
It’s Jared by the way 

Jensen’s pulse is quick and harsh through his body, making him shake just enough that he sees his thumbs quiver over the keyboard before he finally calms himself and types type out a response.

 _Oh godddddd_ he types, rolling his eyes at the extra letters. He even gives Jessica a quick glare and complains, “You know you would.”

 _You’re there!_ Jared replies. 

_Yeah yeah yeah ik. I’m just such an air head and forgot we made dinner plans doh!_

_But you’re ok? We haven’t seen you around._

_Yah totally cool totally. I went on vacay!!_

_So happy to hear that!_

Jensen smiles for alleviating Jared’s fears, though there’s a sliver of frustration that it took Jessica replying for him to feel better about something Jensen doesn’t want him worrying over. 

_Go anywhere fun?_ Jared asks and Jensen tilts his head in thought, reading the question a few times over. 

He could let this be, joke that the vacation is so amazing there’s no time to chat, and then let her ghost Jared. But there’s a thrill running down Jensen’s spine at the power he has in his hands, how he can craft the story just like he does for his novel, and how he can continue to convince Jared again and again that nothing is what it seems. That Jensen has all the answers Jared needs. 

_Caribbean. Beaches and bikinis and lots and lots of alcohol ;-)_

_Jealous as hell girl!_

Jensen scowls at _girl_ for a few seconds before his mind spins into a more devious notion. He quickly types out _So you guys were all worried about me huh_

_A lil yeah, I was_

_Just you yeah ;-)_

When Jared replies _Jensen, too_ it makes Jensen grin. 

Giving up the name lets him jump right into it … if the police figure out she was killed long before these texts, there may be early suspicion on him or Jared, but the argument could be made that the killer jumped onto what Jared’s provided him. 

At least, that’s what Jensen would write if this were his book.

 _But not Jensen_ … He pauses before sending, looks at Jessica, then smiles a little and adds on _haaaaaa right?_

_He was worried in his own way_

_What way is that??? Idk that he likes me all that much ya know_

Long seconds drag on with no answer. Jensen even glares at Jessica that she took it too far by being so needy, for making _Jensen_ so needy when it comes to Jared. “Why do you make me do these things,” he whispers to her, to himself, even to Jared finally typing out a message.

_He’s just like that sometimes_

_Like what_

_Jensen’s just Jensen_

Jensen’s thumbs tap the edges of her phone. He’s already too far into this conversation. He should turn her phone off and just get back downstairs; he has plenty to write. 

But, he’s close now, and he has to know what Jared would say. What he _really thinks_. 

Finally, Jensen sends: _And you like that?_

_Yeah of course I do._

_You happy? Even if “Jensen’s just Jensen”?_

_I love him all the same. All of him._

Heat blooms in Jensen’s chest as tears fill his eyes. He touches his mouth, mimics blowing a kiss at the screen, at Jared, and then sets the phone on the bathroom floor. There are a pair of red heels next to her bed and one makes a mighty fine hammer for him to smash the phone screen, swinging half a dozen times until it’s good and shattered. 

A few calming breaths get him back into the right frame of mind. He sets the shoe next to the phone, perfectly poised on its heel. The image is striking: red patent leather against the pure white tile and black glass scattered all around. 

He slowly rises to take in the whole scene and now he knows it, deep in his soul, that Jared loves every single inch of him. Even the corners of his mind that do _this_. There’s no reason to keep one foot in the past; he can finally break from Jessica — they both can — and let the rest of her story unravel without them. 

But first, he’s got a little more writing to do. 

_Todd can picture the scene at the precinct, all the officers surrounding the detective running down the scene. It plays out in his mind while he continues watching her lithe body buoy in the hot tub. Quietly, he recites what would be announced in that police station._

_”The newest victim is about 35-40 years old, 5’7”, 130 pounds. She was found in the hot tub behind her family’s cabin out in Southland Hills. The ME says it was a quick cut across her neck, one end to the other.”_

_As Todd takes in the dense forestry surrounding the property, he knows that she’ll be here a while. Springtime means it gets cool at night, maybe down in the 40s, and the water temperature will drop along with it. Soaking in the tub this long, her body will turn a cruel grey in the bloody water before anyone finds her out here._

Jensen glances to the ceiling. Or up there …

* * *

When Jared’s home from work, Jensen’s got dinner ready for them: a bottle of wine open on the kitchen island with a large spread of take-out.

He grins when Jared’s eyes light up. 

“Is that the place Jessica told us about?”

Jensen nods as he accepts Jared’s hello kiss and hug. “Just had a craving for Chinese for some reason.”

“Did you get Kung Pao?”

“Of course I did.” Jensen slides his hands down Jared’s spine and into the back pockets of his jeans. He tugs at Jared’s ass to pull him in close. “Anything for you.”

Jared softly smiles and kisses him, slow and lazy. It grows deeper as Jensen thinks back to the texts on Jessica’s phone and how Jared pledged his love for Jensen, declared it for Jessica to know that she has no place in his life, and there’s no way he can stop now. Not for Mongolian beef or shrimp fried rice. Not even crab rangoon can take him from his husband’s wet, warm mouth and the talented press of his tongue.

Jensen immediately spins them towards the hallway and ignores any protests in favor of the bedroom. 

“I think I’m just hungry for you,” Jensen pants into Jared’s neck when he’s got him laid out on the mattress. 

A breathy chuckle breaks from Jared’s lips as Jensen undresses him. “You must be really hungry,” he says, with a bit of surprise when Jensen wastes little time for foreplay. 

He moves back up to Jared and takes his mouth with his, plunges his tongue deep, and gets to working a lubed finger in. Shifting back just enough, Jensen watches Jared’s face change when his finger slides inside. He bites into a grin then kisses Jared’s forehead, his cheek, and his chin. “I’m always hungry for you. For all of you,” he adds, echoing part of Jared’s text. 

“I’m all yours,” Jared grits out as Jensen adds a second finger. Then he starts panting and rolling his hips to Jensen’s hand. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“It’s gonna get better, baby.” Jensen nods along with Jared, beaming at him with all the love in the world bursting through. “You’re always mine. Nothing will get in our way.”

Jared’s eyes shine with the proclamation and he wraps his arms around Jensen’s neck, tugging him down into messy kisses. 

“I swear to you,” Jensen continues, voice low and confident, maybe just a little hard. “I will never let anything get in our way.”

Jared’s palms covers most of Jensen’s cheeks as he caresses Jensen’s face. “I know you won’t, babe.”

Jensen slicks up his own dick and pushes slowly into Jared, trying his best for patience even when he can feel they have anything but that to give in this moment. Soon enough, Jared’s hitched his legs around Jensen’s hips, heels digging into Jensen’s ass, and Jensen gets a steady rhythm between them. He fucks Jared deep into the mattress and holds onto the headboard for leverage as he snaps his hips sharp and quick, again and again, punching harsh moans out of Jared’s lips every time. 

The moans turn into high whimpers as Jared’s getting close, and then he’s muttering Jensen’s name and grabbing onto Jensen’s shoulders. 

“What do you need, baby?” Jensen asks, nearly begs. Because he’ll give Jared anything he needs right now. 

“Need you,” he pants while he runs his hand up Jensen’s arm to grab onto his wrist. “Want you to finish me.” Then he brings Jensen’s hand down to wrap around his dick, his own hand guiding Jensen in time with the rhythm of each stride. 

It’s another minute or so, Jensen jacking Jared off until he comes, and it’s another minute of his hips going double time to finish inside Jared. He collapses on Jared and wraps himself all around him, covering his husband with all he has to give, while taking all Jared has to offer him.

* * *

They finally get to the Chinese food. It’s cooled to room temperature, but Jensen doesn’t care, not when they’re sitting cross-legged together in bed and feeding one another right out of the carton.

The crab rangoon has just enough of that fake fish flavor to make him wistfully remember Jessica’s bathroom, but not enough to make him want to be up there again. 

There’s a soft calm in the room and he knows it’s because he’s finally reconciled whatever little tremor has been disrupting his life these last few weeks. That tendril of worry that Jared’s mind was no longer solely focused on him, on their relationship. But now he knows … Jared is just as consumed as Jensen is, for _all of him._

Jensen feels so assured that even Jared mentioning Jessica’s mail is like any random passing thought. 

“It’s piling up in the lobby,” Jared points out. “I know she’s on vacation, but she probably forgot to do a mail hold.”

Digging into the shrimp fried rice, Jensen focuses on getting the perfect mix of rice, veggies, and shrimp as Jared goes on with vague concern about her stuff.

“At some point, you think the mailman will just throw it all out?”

“Maybe.” Jensen offers a mindless shrug as he eats. “Or maybe someone will steal it.”

Jared laughs. “You think someone really wants more of those Mega Mailers?”

“Coupons are gold these days.” Another perfect forkful of fried rice, and Jensen offers it to Jared then watches closely as Jared leans in, opens his mouth, and happily moans with the taste. Jensen’s left warm and pleasant as the noise hits deep in his gut and he continues eyeing Jared closely. Maybe they’ll go for round two once they’ve had their fill of the whole spread.

“Everyone likes to save a buck,” Jared agrees with a nod. “But if the pile gets out of control, I’m gonna grab it for her. Let her know she can pick it up when she’s home.”

Jensen leans in and thumbs at Jared’s bottom lip, clearing a little bit of sweet and sour sauce. He presses the pad of his thumb at Jared’s mouth so he can lick it off, then he hums with pleasure. For the touch of Jared’s tongue on his skin and the softness he sees in Jared. “You’re a good guy, thinking of her. But I’m sure she’s fine.”

Jared blushes a little and even tips his head down like he’s busy with his kung pao chicken and not purposely hiding the flush on his cheeks or shy eyes for being recognized for his kind heart. “Yeah, she’s probably fine. 

“Out on some beach …”

Jensen sing-songs, “In an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini.” They laugh together and Jensen continues on with an eyebrow waggle to really sell it. “Surrounded by tons of island men who cater to her every whim. She doesn’t need that mail.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jared shifts close and kisses Jensen. It’s just a simple press of lips, yet solid and caring in a long touch. “You’re always right.”

Jensen is smug when he smiles. Sometimes it takes a long run of back and forth to convince Jared, Jensen maintaining composure and spinning a dozen lies through his mind. 

It’s gratifying for Jared to acknowledge it once in a while. 

“Yes, I am.”

* * *

Jensen taps the keyboard before the words come together, as he waits to string sentences that are just as satisfying to type as they are to acknowledge as his own truth.

Todd Dean has just revealed himself as the Montrose killer, remaining cool and firm in a final standoff with the cop who’s been chasing him for the last six years: Detective Tristan Walker. 

_Todd knows he doesn’t have the upper hand so much as it’s an even playing field. For all that Walker has the law on his side, his radio was lost three blocks down and two over when he’d hopped that fence to follow his target, so there’s no back-up heading their way._

_It’s just the two of them in this shadowed alley, each holding a gun at their sides, neither willing to fire._

_They’re both smiling, and Todd is sure it’s the culmination of a dozen bodies and three _almost-not-quite_ moments where Walker had been right on his tail. Here they stand under the same moonlight, breathing the same air, and all Todd can think about is all the fun they’ve had so far. How they could have so much more. _

_“You know,” Todd begins loftily. “There’s so much we could do together.”_

_Walker adjusts his stance, long and thin legs holding ground. “Oh really?”_

_“We could work together. Think of all I could teach you about the business.”_

_“The business of murder?”_

_“Of recognizing your emotions.” Todd spreads his hands out, gun loose in his palm but not forgotten, when he makes one last eloquent motion with it. “Of finally being yourself. It has been so freeing to allow myself to just … be me.”_

_Walker slowly nods and Todd is certain that the detective is weighing those words, really turning them over and considering just exactly who Todd Dean is, who he’s become these last six years by finally listening to all that’s lived deep within._

_“I know you see that in me,” Todd continues with a soft smile. “Who I really am and you accept it.”_

Jensen holds the same smile as he presses save, heads back to bed, and wraps himself around his husband. A pleasant, satisfied sleep carries him through the rest of the night.

* * *

Jensen wakes to banging at the front door, though it’s Jared who jumps out of bed to answer it.

The other voices are loud enough Jensen can tell they mean business, so he pulls on a t-shirt and joins Jared at the door, where a male and female uniformed police officer are facing them. 

Jensen’s body freezes for a split second before he’s able to kick back into motion with a curious, concerned look. “Everything okay, officers?”

Jared rings his hand around Jensen’s elbow and pulls him close, a sure sign of worry. “They’re doing a welfare check on Jessica, but no one’s answering upstairs. They said she hasn’t been to work in a week.”

 _Work_. Jensen thought he’d messaged the right people in Jessica’s phone, but he must’ve missed someone. A careless mistake brought the police here far earlier than he’d expected. 

If they break down her door, they’ll find her body in severe decomp, but not enough to believe that she’d been killed _after_ the messages he sent Jared from her phone.

To cover, Jensen widens his eyes with the right amount of confusion as he turns to Jared and shakes his head. “But you said she’d texted you that she was on vacation.”

Jared’s face is flushed and tears are building in his eyes. It’s obvious he’s freaked out by the circumstances, especially being in the middle of it with those texts. “Maybe it wasn’t her. What if it was her killer?”

Jensen nearly laughs, but then he breathes easy with a careful smile and faces the officers. He even puts a hand out to explain as they examine Jared and Jensen with suspicion. “I’m actually a crime writer. So, we maybe have wild imaginations in this sort of thing.”

The male officer, tall and firm in the shoulders, scowls a little, and Jensen appropriately changes his expression to a bit of shame. Officer Penikett, by the name tag, asks, “Has she talked about any problems, maybe something or someone in her life going bad?”

“No, not that I remember,” Jared answers, and even goes on to detail random things Jessica has told him. Where her spin class is, that she was on Tinder but hardly went on any dates, and that she was slowly getting used to living in a big city with so many people around. “Oh, but Michael!” Jared suddenly blurts.

“Michael?” Jensen repeats before he can stop himself. He quickly schools his face back into something more thoughtful and anxious for Jessica than whatever Jared is about to uncover.

“She told me she had a bad break-up before she left,” he goes on to explain. “Michael, I don’t know his last name, but it was one of the reasons she moved here.”

Jensen’s mind spins with delight and he has to force himself to not smile. He could kiss Jared right now, if not for the officers and the very serious line of questioning they’re facing. 

Jared is giving them the best person of interest. He’s giving Jensen the best scapegoat. 

“How about you, sir?” the female officer asks, eyes right on Jensen. She’s no-nonsense in her strong stance and a face Jensen can’t read for anything. He can at least read her name tag, _Swallow_ “When’s the last time you spoke to her?”

He puts on a thinking face for the officers and also because he recounts that afternoon with the knife and the bath, and neither of them said a word. “I don’t know, but probably a few weeks. I work from home so I don’t really leave the apartment much. I usually only see her when Jared and I are running out for dinner or the farmer’s market on the weekends.” He nudges Jared to ask, “When was it that she told us about the Chinese place.”

Officer Swallow and her partner seem nonplussed by the random details, but Jensen knows how to play just stupid enough to sell innocent.

“Maybe two Saturdays ago?“ Jared offers. “It was after we went to the movies.”

“Yeah, must’ve been,” Jensen agrees. “Otherwise, I haven’t talked to her.” It’s not a lie, he’s comfortable in that. Lying to Jared is one thing; facing off with the police is a more delicate situation. 

Penikett continues to scowl; Jensen thinks it could be his natural resting state. He hands over a business card for Jared to take and insists, “You think of anything, please call.”

“Or if you see or hear anything around here,” Swallow adds. “We’ll be talking to your neighbors, too.”

Jensen nods with the same blasé innocence, but it’s Jared who’s gone white with worry. Once the officers are gone and the door’s shut, Jensen brings Jared into his embrace, tucking Jared’s head into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sure they’ll find her soon. It’ll all be fine.”

His vision blurs over as he stares at the door and imagines the officers canvassing the building. He runs through imaginary conversations of what other neighbors will say, if anyone on the third floor could remember hearing someone in Jessica’s apartment all those times Jensen returned to the scene. 

Hell, that may even help sell it, that she had to have been home all this time, if there was someone coming and going. And when the cops start to check out her other texts about leaving for the Caribbean yet find no travel plans, maybe they’ll start to believe she’d been in trouble with someone in her life. That she’d wanted to escape … but Michael — _Michael!_ Jensen shouts internally — had tracked her down.

Jensen could definitely write that.

* * *

To distract Jared from this mess, Jensen suggests they head out for breakfast and do some shopping. It’s not the most exciting of plans, but it’s better than staying here and overhearing officers repeatedly questioning folks all over the building.

They finally get moving when there’s pounding above, a loud cracking bang, and footsteps all over the wood floor in 304. 

Jensen’s a little worried — maybe more than just a little — but there’s plenty of time and work to be put into that bathroom before the police have any inkling as to what happened. 

But he is a professional. He’s been writing about murder for nearly two decades now, crafting all sorts of stories where good guys prevail, but with every book, he’s learned more and more about how the bad guys cover their tracks. 

And he’ll cover his tracks with Jared by grabbing hold of his husband’s hand as they roam the local market and pick out fresh veggies and fruits to take home, and even debate a few pieces of art that catch their eye. 

Jared is subdued on the walk back to their building, sad about whatever the police are uncovering in Jessica’s apartment. Jensen adores that Jared has a big heart, even when he hates having to share it with every soul that Jared meets. There’s nothing but Jared in his own heart. He’ll just have to love Jared a little harder to remind him that they only need one another.

Worse yet, the police presence on their block has grown in the hours they’ve been gone. The scene outside the building is somber as the gathered crowd of residents and passers-by watch a stretcher roll out of the building. 

Jensen hears nothing beyond the pulse in his ears and his vision blurs out beyond the stretcher. His eyes are ultra focused on the stretcher and now he sees blood staining the sheet around her neck and spreading over her body, spilling out slowly like it did in the bath. 

A police radio squawks nearby and Jensen’s shaken out of the vision. When he turns with Jared to watch the stretcher hefted into the coroner’s van, the sheet is bright white again. Just like her bathroom had been. Just like the whites of her eyes when she’d turned and seen Jensen.

* * *

They attend her funeral only because Jared insisted and Jensen can’t ignore the pit of guilt that this is all because of him. Jared’s sorrow is at Jensen’s hands.

He also can’t ignore the feeling of eyes on him through the whole event. When even Jared recognizes that Jensen was affected by the service, Jensen tries to shake it off with a light laugh once they’re home. 

“Just felt weird to be there, you know?” Jensen gives an awkward shrug. “We barely knew her, but here are her two gay neighbors at her furneral.”

Jared snorts as he rings his arm around Jensen, pulling him in close. “Yeah, she’d said her family was pretty conservative. I definitely felt like everyone was watching us and judging.”

“Yeah, I felt that, too.” Admitting it means Jensen can lift this weight off his chest and he can finally smile for Jared. “Glad I wasn’t the only one.” And he means it. He finds an odd sense of comfort that they share this feeling. 

“You definitely weren’t, babe.” Jared kisses his forehead and walks off down the hallway while working his tie loose. “You hungry?”

Jensen watches him disappear into the bedroom and wonders if this is it, the closure he’s been waiting for ever since the police showed up at their doorstep. That they can finally move past Jessica and forget she ever lived here. 

“Maybe order in some Chinese?” Jared suggests. 

He winces then shakes his head. “Nah, I’m not in the mood.”

“I think there’s some pasta left from last night.”

Jared reappears in sleep pants and a weathered tee, all relaxed and comfortable for the first time in a week and Jensen’s heart grows two sizes. He takes Jared’s hands in his and lifts up to kiss Jared, soft and easy, because he knows they’re finally back to normal, just them, with not even a dead girl bringing them down. 

“So, pasta it is?” Jared asks with a smirk. 

Jensen nods resolutely. “Anything you want, baby.”

* * *

Another Sunday morning at the market two blocks over and Jensen loses time scoping out a produce tent with fresh zucchini, tomatoes, and squash. He finishes up the transaction and takes all of the bagged vegetables when he hears a boisterous laugh behind him.

It’s another few tents down, but there stands Jared laughing his head off, body arched back with his tanned face to the sky. Full on delight at whatever is being said, whatever _that guy_ just told him. 

Jensen narrows his eyes then puts a more controlled, easy look in place as he walks over to inspect the scene. “Hey, babe,” Jensen murmurs, leaning in to kiss Jared’s cheek. 

Jared’s beaming with glee. He sets his arm around Jensen’s shoulder, but his eyes are still firmly focused on the buff guy in front of him. 

The guy is tall, but not as tall as Jensen — _hah!_ — though the way his shirt sleeves stretch over biceps, Jensen concedes that he can’t compete with the muscles that are obviously hard earned. He’s got dark hair combed over in a messy part and blue eyes bright like a beacon, even Jensen can’t turn away from them. 

“This is Matt,” Jared introduces. “an old friend from college.”

Matt has a broad, toothpaste-white smile even brighter than his eyes, and Jensen wants to punch him in the face when the guy winks. “Old friend, sure.”

“Okay, okay,” Jared chuckles awkwardly. He shifts towards Jensen but won’t meet his eyes when he goes on to admit: “Full disclosure, we dated.”

Jensen’s skin burns white hot and there’s static in his ears even when he calmly turns from Jared to Matt and back to Jared with a plain look. “Oh?”

“I mean, it was my first guy and I was pretty damn clumsy about it. So, nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” Matt intones gravely, even as he’s slyly eyeing Jared and touching his chest to make a point. “I’m hurt, Jare,”

Jensen’s fingernails dig into the meat of his palm at Matt’s look, not to mention the casual _Jare_. Nicknames and bold grins stir up the darker hate in Jensen’s heart, and then the guy suggests they hang out, catch up … “You know, relive the old days.”

Sound muffles and Jensen suddenly doesn’t care that Jared and Matt are so deep in conversation because now Jensen gets a great profile view. He stares at Matt, takes in every curve of his face and the way his mouth moves around words. His mind runs off with visions of carving off his lips so he can’t smile at Jared or kiss his cheek when they hug goodbye.

Jensen blinks back into the present and smiles evenly for Jared. “He seems nice.”

Jared laughs a little, scuffing a hand through his hair, and he turns to the next booth. “Yeah, he’s alright.”

Once Jared is distracted with a smattering of baked goods, Jensen looks over his shoulder to find Matt in the crowd. The smile drops, but there are all sorts of thoughts popping up. Like eight inches of German stainless steel and a cartoon shark. 

He pulls out his phone to find it on Amazon. Maybe a little on the nose, but even Todd Dean has his trusty weapon carried from murder to murder.

Just as he finishes the purchase, Jared nudges him and motions at Jensen's phone. “We good?”

"Yeah of course." Jensen exhales with a brand new smile turning his lips as he explains, "Just some more research for the book."

"You're obsessed," Jared laughs.

And Jensen nods, because he knows. _Oh, he knows_.


End file.
